My Sweet Candy!
by ChocMochaLatte
Summary: And it was always apple flavoured whenever he dropped by to see her during his errands once in a while. R&R minna


**A/N: I've been dying to do a fic on these two, their parting was sooo damned sad! T.T And so, my tribute to them~ Enjoy~**

**-Aoi.V-**

* * *

_**RingoxOmoi~My Sweet Candy**_

She'd never considered her name as part of herself, who she was. Because it seemed too sweet, too _innocent_ to be a part of her volatile, ferocious nature. _**Ringo. **_The name seemed to be deceptive, everything she couldn't and wouldn't be. Ameyuri had long since given up hope on trying to hook up with any guys, living ones at least. Not that those in their deceased state gave her any consent, but still, she'd far from yearned for a man, someone to confide in her deepest, darkest secrets without any pretence. Nope, that was the least of her problems.

Or it was, until fate drew her to an erratic thunderstorm in form of a highly irritable and yet exceptionally gifted man.

_Irritable_ because he piqued her to the point where she lost her infamous callousness and was prone to show every one of her emotions around him, _**gifted, **_because it is he –and _only he_- who ever seemed to lure out all her weaknesses out with a mere smirk. And she _**despised**_ him for it.

Unlike her, he disagreed with her point of Ringo not suiting her, and they would argue on this for long periods of hours, with none winning in the end. But still she initiated it, and he would join in without failure, it seemed like a never-ending dance of theirs, something to connect to each other with.

Contrasting her beliefs, he claimed that Ringo suited her very well, despite her snarky attitude to people, her jagged, fang-like teeth, and her creepily done hairstyle.

"_Ringo.." _Was how he would drawl out her name in that sexy baritone of his when he was trying to make her see the validity of his line of reasoning; the pronunciation slightly slurred because of the lollipop he'd often stuff in his mouth.

'_Was there even a day he was without them?' _She thought, before getting distracted again as his tongue swirled over the mass of mini spherical candy that accumulated the space of his mouth.

And it was _always_ **apple **flavoured whenever he dropped by to see her during his errands once in a while. She thought it was a mere fluke, a chance, but she knew that wasn't the case any longer when she'd caught him looking at her with a telltale darkening that defied the already black orbs of his while his tongue swirled the harmless little candy round and around so erotically that she thought lollipops should be banished from earth, _forever_.

And she hated that simply a heated gaze of his elicited such a Spartan reaction from her because she had to struggle to hide the violent shivers that racked her whole being at that moment; the tension that permeated the air surrounding them almost palpable, so painfully tangible in her small, crammed room.

And she _had to_ throw him out, demanded that he waited for her outside as she took her bath and dressed. She hadn't missed the flash of desire that clouded his obsidian eyes then either; the effect of it had her almost reeling, out of breath as the longing in his eyes solidified when she licked her lips out of nervousness, a habit she wasn't able to ditch ever since childhood.

"I'll be waiting..." His voice was whisper soft, liltingly seductive. The ends of his headband trailed after her cheeks, caressing her as though it was really him instead of the cloth. It took all her well-trained restraint to not buckle down to her knees then and there, her hands grasping the door and the doorknob for support.

"_Omoi.." _She whispered his name, liking –_loving_- the sound of it as it tumbled smoothly off her lips, the slight scent of clouds and candies and cinnamon spice all mingled together to create a scent that was so exclusively him that she wouldn't miss it for all the scent infused in the world. The fair, pale gray hair that complemented his milky-choc complexion almost beautifully matched with a duo of arresting, jet-black orbs served to compel a lady to a compromise, going down towards the high, prominent nose that suggested he was no pushover to those _sinful _pair of lips made to drive a **nun** _crazy! _

Omoi was a gorgeous specimen, and he _knew _it, thus making him impervious to her snide comments, because he was _aware _she thought _otherwise, _in spite of her protests regarding that. Strands of flaming red obstructed her view as the wind played havoc with her silken mane; she stopped her reverie for a brief moment, tucking the stray locks behind her ear, hoping they'd stay out of her way. She'd stopped styling her hair in that creepy way long time ago, _**not**_ because of _him_, _'Oh hell no!'_ Her gaze dropped towards her wild, unruly hair, her mind flitting to another brief memory..

"_You're beautiful Ringo, even more so when you actually let your hair free instead of constraining them in that creepy hairdo of yours." _That was what he'd said when she'd accidentally bumped into him at her kitchen when he was visiting her once. She completely forgot about him and was completely taken aback when she discovered him in _**her**__ kitchen_, sipping a tall glass of iced mocha, appearing absolutely at ease as she came stumbling and mumbling into the kitchen, bedraggled and wearing a super thin chemise, _in the middle of the night_.

Ringo just about refrained herself from screaming bloody murder and remembered that he was in fact _visiting her_ after his task in an area nearby hers and it was **she** who suggested that **he** _stay at hers_ instead of renting out a place for the night.

His sweltering gaze swept her appearance from head to toe, lingering longer at certain areas, making her go hot and uncomfortable at the sudden tightening in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to dash back upstairs and pretend that nothing happened, but her battered pride demanded that she saw through what she originally came for.

So that was exactly what she did; straightening herself, Ringo relaxed her stiff body before advancing towards the fridge to get what she wanted, ignoring the best she could his intense, evocative stares on her person.

"You, can't sleep?" She asked with more uncertainty revealed in her voice than she would have liked.

He ran a finger provocatively along the rim of his glass and took a long, deliberate sip; she bit her lips, straining to mask the tremors that wracked her body so fiercely.

"Yeah.." His voice was husky, deeper than it normally was, what caused it, she didn't want to know. He rose from his seat stylishly, wiping the remnants of the mocha with his thumb and licked it off before edging closer towards her, laying his palms flat on the counter beside where she stood.

"I wonder.. Would you be able to sleep, if we were in this same circumstance, only back at _my place_?" He turned towards her, eyes demanding for her answer silently.

Ringo gulped, "I.. I don't know, I'm not sure. I don't really sleep well in new places, so perhaps I might have a hard time..." Her breath caught in her throat as he shifted; one hand lay on the fridge's cool surface, another on her waist, completely barring her exit.

"Omoi, I need to get b-back to bed, I've got some work to be done early morning tomorrow." She mentally smacked herself for stammering.

He leant closer, inhaling in the rich, crisp, fresh apple scent of hers, "Don't.." He implored, his hand tucked back the stray strands of her undomesticated, blazing red locks, stroking the line of her jaw softly, along the graceful arch of her neck before claiming her lips in kiss no more than chaste.

Ringo was surprised she didn't hyperventilate; her head was pounding, heart galloping so fast that it could rival the fastest race horse in the world. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, save for what he was doing to her, and she couldn't find a single cell in herself to form a protest, to even complaint about the invasion on her personal space.

"Omoi.." Ringo's voice faltered, he struggled to maintain his composure, but damn, she'd sure grown more and more entrancing each time he saw her. Omoi couldn't help but touch her -her neck, her shoulder, the curves of her body and the edge of her jaw- he couldn't help but admire them, couldn't help but to let his hands roam.

He so badly wanted to make her his, but he didn't want to scare her, nor did he want to raise another war between the villages. He didn't want to revive his moments in the Fourth Ninja War once again. She seemed so small now, shadowed by his gigantic frame; Omoi gritted his teeth together, trying to piece his conscience before they vanished into thin air. Inhaling a deep breath, he took a step away from her, "I'll be fine, go on, you need your sleep." He grabbed the glass and walked towards the kitchen before she could utter another word.

Ringo fought not to run like a madwoman up the stairs as her brain comprehended whatever that had transpired moments ago between the both of them. _Omoi_ liking _her_? The mere thought of it made her want to fly up to the sky and start believing that God actually existed, but that isn't possible now is it? Neither was she so sure about God's existence...

She glanced towards the kitchen, snapping out of her trance as the scent of okonomiyaki wafted in the air and saw Omoi deftly flipping the savoury cake onto a plate. He caught her eyes and bequeathed her an artless grin, one that made her heart trip four steps down before picking up it's pace once again. That man and his lollipops were going to be the official death of her.

"Order's up!" He placed two separate platters on the dining table and beckoned her over, pulling out her chair like a gentleman would. Ringo looked at him, baffled. Not that he wasn't a gentleman rest of the times, but something was different today.

'_Maybe it's his clothes?' _She thought, taking in his attire; he was dressed in untailored, cambric white shirt, the sleeves folded offhandedly up to his elbows, exposing his sinewy forearms that she'd watched wielding katanas so expertly a myriad of times. Ringo gulped and averted her gaze, forcing down the blush that threatened to stain her face. The scent of his cologne overpowered her breathing passage as he set a glass of iced caramel latte in front of her, "Eat." Ringo could offer no other response than a frantic nod and proceeded to wolf down the okonomiyaki, hoping to calm the rush that claimed her so unexpectedly. Damn that man for putting her into this state.

She tried, and failed to ignore his stares on her, dreading the moment when he called out her name, "Ringo."

"Hmm?" Her reply was muffled by the chunks of okonomiyaki in her mouth.

"There's something I need to tell you.

Her chewing slowed as her pulse raced like wild, native drums, "Oh? What's it about?" She refused to let herself be embarrassed any further when she noticed a smirk on his face. And then all went blank as she heard his next words:

"I love you."

She had no time to process the words because in the next instance her lips were claimed and plundered oh-so-deliciously by the Kumogakure rogue.

It seemed that her body was better at reacting to her untold desires since she found herself kissing him back when she'd finally made sense of what he'd told her earlier.

Deciding to screw propriety and all rules that went with being one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, Ringo kissed him with every ounce of pent-up passion that she'd suppressed all these while.

"I guess, I love you too.." She said, her eyes trained on the wall far back, not quite prepared to look at him just yet.

Omoi smirked, "And I wouldn't have it any other ways, my dear _apple_ candy.." He kissed her nose affectionately, meshing her body closer to his, savouring the sensation she induced in him.

Ah, life could go on just like this, and he would be contented, without ever asking for anything else.

_**Owari**_


End file.
